The Process of Writing A Story
by SotB
Summary: Hermione decides to take Sirius on an adventure of creativity. Mild language & adult content


**The Process of Writing a Story**

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**Disclaimer**: I do not own the characters and am merely toying with them for my own enjoyment.

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**Author's Note**: This story is inspired by _Stranger Than Fiction_ and _Dogma_. I hope you take time and watch those movies. They're great.

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"So is this how you spend your Sunday mornings?" Sirius Black's curious drawl reverberated to Hermione Granger's ears.

The rain was pouring upon them, but only Sirius held an umbrella. She had previously refused the shelter from the rain, claiming the cold harshness a welcomed feeling to her thoughtless mind. An almost finished cigarette twirled lazily in her fingers, burning against the natural precipitation.

"Yes," Hermione replied simply, her eyes fixed upon London Bridge and the multitude of cars trafficked upon its graceful suspensions. Sirius gave her a funny look, which did not go unnoticed by Hermione. She sighed and decided to explain more, "This is my inspiration."

"Your…inspiration?" he said the word in an almost revered manner.

"Look at all those people stuck in a moment of time. Frustration is etched on their faces if only for the fifteen minutes or so it takes to drive across the bridge. All they care about is to get to the place they plan to be. They don't know nor do they care about the one family that just died in the car crash at the front. They pass the wreck and for a slight moment, apologies are sent silently to the family. Yet they resumed their way and forget about death. They go home to their own families and not once does it occur to them that they could have been the ones who died. This is how people are. This is what life is about." Hermione inhaled the last bit of her dying cigarette and threw the remainder onto the ground.

When she stood up, Sirius looked at her in alarm, "We're leaving?"

Hermione glanced at him, surprised, "Why yes."

Sirius followed without any more questions, though his expressions clearly said the opposite. It was the first time Hermione brought Sirius along for her Sunday morning walk. And it proved to be quite…atypical.

He loved Hermione for being the alluring, intelligent woman she was. She saved him more than once from the dangers they faced against Voldemort. He owed her more than he could ever repay, but she only ever asked him of this little favor—of sitting with her on a public bench watching traffic.

He counted himself lucky to be in her presence. Many people have sought for the hand of Hermione Granger and she turned all of her suitors down. Nobody asked her why as they all had enough tact to see she just wasn't interested. Yet Sirius was hung upon Hermione Granger. Her intelligence was challenging, her quick wit was humourous, her demeanor was striking, and her beauty was intoxicating. But if her suitors did not interest her, how was Sirius Black, the ex-convict and old womanizer, able to compare?

He respected the witch for being able to duel even Dumbledore (Merlin rest his soul). But he also found her sexy as hell. He wasn't the only one who thought so or noticed. Ron had already dated Hermione, but they realised that they were better off as best friends, despite knowing how the other look in the nude. Harry had once confessed that if he weren't happily engaged to Ginny Weasley, he'd go for his best mate (and not Ronald).

Once Sirius accidentally stumbled upon Hermione getting out of the shower. He took one look at her state of attire (lack of attire, actually) and blushed the way he hadn't since his teenage years. In his state of increasing arousal, he managed to mumble apologies. She didn't even look as shocked as she should have. She merely gave him a meek look and wrapped herself in a cotton robe. He closed the door and ran into his room, trying to will his erection back to normal. The rest of the day he stayed locked up in his room and refused to answer the door to anyone.

It really wasn't fair. After that one incident, all Sirius could see was her naked. Even when she wore her formal robes, he couldn't see the beautiful material of her dress robes. It was only flesh. Remus called him a pervert and laughed after he confessed one night while they talked in the garden.

Walking in companionable silence, they reach a dark alley; they Apparated back to Grimmauld Place to join the rest of their companions for supper. He willed himself back to the land of the living. He might as well give up his hopes of bedding the delectable witch. She was far out of his league.

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"I never had a chance to ask you. What do you write?" they were found at Heathrow airport, sitting in the waiting area.

"Stuff," she didn't bother to elucidate.

"Mm, that's wonderful," Sirius joked.

Hermione gave a slight chuckle, "Yes, it is."

They resumed comfortable silence and watched people hugging and laughing as family and friends were reunited.

"Why do you come here?" Sirius asked.

"My, you have a lot of questions, don't you?" she said good-naturedly. "You see that couple right there?" A lady and a gentleman were hugging ferociously as the female showered kisses upon the man. "There's this special moment where everything is forgotten. They forgot about the fight they had when she left. All they maintain is the moment when they first see each other. What he doesn't know is that she cheated on him twice while she was away. What she doesn't know is that he smoked six packs of cigarettes when he told her he'd quit and went to a bachelor party while she was on her trip. Right now, they don't care about the other person's faults. They only see the now."

"And how do you know this?" Sirius smiled at her close observations.

"For starters, I don't know. But it makes a nice story, doesn't it?" Hermione grinned and motioned for them to head outside for a smoke and then lunch.

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Six days past before Sirius had another chance to join Hermione on one of her little inspiration walks. This time, they were on top of a roof. The vista overlooked the rest of London, awing Sirius with its rich splendor and history.

"Wouldn't it be so easy to just jump off this building?" Hermione was standing at the edge of the roof.

She wasn't jumping Sirius knew. It was merely observation to her.

"Yes, it would," Sirius told her what he thought she wanted to hear.

Hermione pondered for a second and looked down at the people walking here and there. "No, it wouldn't."

"It wouldn't?" Sirius looked shocked.

"Imagine you're really depressed. You think that the only solution in the world would be to take your own life. You climb the staircase leading to the roof of your apartment building. With each step, your feet seem heavier to carry and harder to lift. When you finally reach the top, you slowly walk to the edge of the building." Her hands lift up and paint a picture for him, "There's a fencelike structure obscuring you from jumping off. It's concrete and easy to climb. You wonder why the architect didn't bother making it higher. Once you steady yourself upon the concrete hedge, you look down at the people going about their daily lives. You imagine yourself like them with places to go and people to see. Then you wonder if people will notice you're gone when you die. You wonder if people will care. Will they come to your funeral? Will your family cry at your funeral?" Hermione paced slowly along the edge of the building, looking almost as if she planned to jump herself, "You think of your family then. You see little Billy's face float through your mind's eye. You'll never be able to watch your nephew grow into a young man batting off girls with sticks. You think of Sally and how you'll never be able to watch her first horseracing competition." She stopped pacing and took a step away from the edge, "At that moment you realise how you can't go through with it. You realise how much you're risking by killing yourself, how many people you'll affect. Maybe Billy will never have an older person to guide him into adulthood because his own parents are too busy making money. Sally will have to miss her race to go to your funeral." Hermione took her place beside Sirius and took out her cigarette box and lighter. "You step off the hedge. And climb back down the stairs. Suicide never again enters your mind. The following week, Sally takes first place with her horse. You go on with your life. This episode is never remembered again."

She took a drag of her lit cigarette. The smoke ring she exhaled brought a smile upon Sirius' face. There was more to this woman than many others see. And Sirius was lucky enough to see this side of her.

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Hermione came down the stairs looking bright and chipper. Harry and Ron glanced at each other with knowing grins. Remus was at the stove, cooking up more bacon for the bottomless pits to eat (Harry and Ron). She seated herself in her usual spot at the table and reached for the toast and jam.

"What are you doing today, Hermione?" Harry was making conversation.

Sirius looked up from the morning Prophet, curious to know Hermione's activities today.

"Writing," was her simple reply.

"I see," Ron hid his smirk behind his cup of tea.

Sirius looked around at the three of them. Was he missing the joke here?

Breakfast went by with idle chitchat. Ron was going to the Ministry today to check up on a few documents in the Department of Mystery. Harry had to go to Quidditch practice in preparation for their upcoming game against Puddlemere. Remus needed to restock on his potion supplies. And Sirius was doing absolutely nothing except lounging around the house.

Once they parted their separate ways, Hermione made her way upstairs to her office and closed the door.

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Sirius knocked gently on the door, a tea tray balanced on one hand. A small, reiterating beat was heard through the door. She was listening to music. Sirius knocked again, this time a little bit harder than the first.

"Come in, Sirius," Hermione said.

He opened the door to find stacks upon stacks of paper littered through the room. Books were open here and there. He glanced at a nearby title and read, "30 Explained Ways to Make Your Enemy Cry." He chuckled at the titled and looked at Hermione sitting at her work desk.

Her hair was tied into a messy bun with a quill sticking from it. She had her reading glasses on and a muggle object was placed on the desk, her fingers rapidly pushing on funny, little buttons. The fan was on and papers flew here and there, but none of this seemed to faze Hermione.

He placed the tea set at the coffee table in the corner. "I brought tea."

Hermione smiled at him, "Thank you, Captain Obvious." And resumed her activity.

"Still writing?" he perched himself at the edge of the window.

She pushed up her glasses and replied in a manner brusque but not rude, "Yes."

"Is there a deadline?" Sirius asked.

"Not really. It's my word that counts at the publishing house really. Besides I only have two hundred more pages." She didn't look up from her work, her eyes fixed permanently on the muggle thing.

"Two hundred pages? You're insane." He looked at her skeptically. "What's that?"

"It's a computer."

"Really? What's it do?" he was very curious about the contraption.

"Lots of things. It's handier than a quill, I'll say. I had the trickiest time trying to get it to work amongst all the magic. Had to get Mr. Weasley to take a look at it." She was still moving her fingers on the buttons.

"What are you doing with your fingers?" he motioned.

"It's called typing. You place your fingers on the buttons and you press. The letter printed on the buttons is the letter that appear when you press on that particular button."

"Fancy." He smirked.

She laughed. "Muggles are quite used it. They're used everywhere."

"Maybe I should get one myself," he studied it for a little bit.

"Sirius, you don't even know what it does."

"Well, I can figure it out."

She gave him a humoured grin, "Alright, suit yourself."

He left her to her work and exited the room in good spirits.

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The next hour, Sirius found Hermione on the floor of the library, reading from a dark green leather-bound book.

"Kink is defined here as an 'unusual sexual practice, especially one that might be considered deviant.' Would you agree?" Hermione inquired.

If he didn't know any better, he would think she was trying to seduce him. She would never seem him that way.

"I don't know. Should I agree?" he leaned haughtily against the doorframe.

She sent him a sultry look and sauntered toward him a way too smooth to be called walking. "Come now, Sirius, you usually have more words than that."

He smirked at her. She was definitely trying to seduce him. And he thought he woke up to a normal day. This turned out to be quite unexpected indeed…but not in an unpleasant way, quite the contrary. He decided to be straightforward despite his usual "weaving" style of seduction. "My, Miss Granger, this is most unexpected?"

"Is it really? I would think of it as very obvious and quite expected." She walked straight up to him and looked him in the eye. He could see lust masked by amusement in her chocolate-brown eyes.

"Expected? I would think not. If someone asked me half an hour ago if you were remotely attracted to me, I would have replied a flat out 'no'." Sirius grinned down at her.

She ran a finger down his tattooed arm, "I'm an author. I guess it's in my job description to be unpredictable." She whispered the last word into his ear, sending slight shivers down his spine.

"We'll just have to see how _unpredictable_ you'll be, now, won't we?" Sirius allowed Hermione to pull him toward the fireplace and ottoman.

"How about we illustrate that particular picture?" Hermione pushed him onto the piece of furniture.

"That sounds like a very good plan to me," he sat up and caught her lips with his own.

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After a final session on the conjured bed, they finally climbed under the covers facing each other. Their bodies screamed for rest, but their minds were too full to be put in slumber.

Sirius panted, still trying to recover from his recent orgasm. "I'd say that was a very well described story."

"Oh yes, it was. It's another bestseller in hand." Hermione laid her head on the crook of his neck.

Sirius' mind reeled. Another bestseller? What exactly was her writing genre? Was it what he thought she wrote? Unsure of how to ask, he opted for a less direct approach.

"Ever thought of writing adult fiction?" he asked tentatively.

She gave him a wicked smirk, "Whatever did you think I meant by 'stuff'?"

That was just sexy. Never let it be said that authors never researched their material.

He pulled her closer to him and muttered against her lips, "I'll get you for that, you minx."

"Mm, I hope so."

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Outside the library door, Harry and Ron listened and tried hard not to laugh as they reached up for a silent high-five.

"It's about time he got some," Harry whispered. "The poor dog."

Ron nodded in agreement, "Well, now I'm off to the bathroom to have a nice wank session. God, Hermione can be hot."

"You and I both, mate. You and I both." Harry made his way up the stairs with practiced ease, in spite of his unwavering hard-on.

Ron heard Harry chuckle and called to him, "At least we got to know how she looks naked."

"All future leading male roles will star a dark, long haired, tattooed god."

"That could be me." Harry laughed.

"Yeah, right, Harry. You defeated Voldemort and probably dueled half of the number of Death Eaters, and you're afraid of the needle." Ron laughed with him. "It's amazing how you're not more disturbed by this, Harry."

"If it makes them happy," Harry told Ron and closed the door of his bedroom. Suddenly he opened his door and shouted, "And that is a legitimate fear. Maybe Voldemort tattooed my forehead."

"Oh, whatever, wanking coward."

"The pot and the kettle, Ronnie-kins."

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Breakfast the next morning was just the two of them as Harry, Ron, and Remus all (miraculously) had errands to run. Hermione cooked up some eggs and ham, while Sirius made toast.

"So what were the whole traffic-observing, airport-watching, suicide-thinking walks about?" Sirius asked once they settled at the table to enjoy the first meal of the day. "Are they part of your new book?"

"No, I just enjoy those activities." She scooped some scrambled eggs onto her own plate. "I already have my story written."

"You do? Then what was last night?"

Hermione stopped and smirked at him, "Just something I've always wanted to do."

Sirius grabbed her arms and pulled her onto of him to kiss her. She smiled against his lips and he could feel a bout of laughter bubbling up within him.

The complicated process of writing a story…

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**Author's Note**: Maybe I have a little bit too much time upon my hands. I hope you enjoyed that little one-shot. Please excuse any mistakes and "Out-of-Character"-ness since this is the first time I wrote a Sirius/Hermione fic. Truth be told, the beginning kind of scared me with the whole suicide-building scenario. I did not plan that one it just came through by itself. A review a chapter makes the author write faster—in this case, since it is a one-shot. You might as well just review because there will be no more chapters.


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